


Disfigures - Eddsworld AU

by SquidleyKiosk



Category: Eddsworld - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Gore, Horror (or at least a crappy attempt at it), M/M, PTSD, Spooky, Thriller, Tordedd is a background ship, forced fusion reference, possibly triggering content
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-02
Updated: 2019-01-05
Packaged: 2019-05-01 02:26:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 7
Words: 7,940
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14510493
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SquidleyKiosk/pseuds/SquidleyKiosk
Summary: The only fic I’ve ever put this much work into.Centers around background characters, but the Edd, Matt, Tom, and Tord still exist and interact with them.Is gory, with no smut (I can’t write smut to save my life and it makes me uncomfortable)I’m still not sure where the fuck this is going. Bear with me.VERY IMPORTANT NOTE:None of the characters in this fanwork are in ANY way associated with their real-life counterparts (There are edited/completely different surnames, etc.). I cannot stress this enough, especially knowing that Pat and Paul are shipped here.





	1. Torch

Bing slammed his fist into the now fried controls.   
  
"No, no no no NO NO NO!!" He screamed. His co-worker -whom he treated more like a henchman- Larry, could only stare at Bing in disbelief.   
  
"What..? The fusion couldn't have gone that wrong... could it have?" Larry stammered, slowly turning his head toward the glass...   
  
_ Sweet Jesus. _   
  
Whatever was left of the two young women was completely barbecued. The two charred bodies were joined at the ribcage, which smoldered like an ashtray. One head of the fusion hung forward, like a child cowering in shame. The other head leaned backward, its mouth gaping open and full of blackened teeth. Smoke rose from the second head's jaws, and melted flesh dripped from its bare scalp.   
  
Before Larry could speak another word, Bing grabbed him by the chin and glared at him, his dark eyes full of fury. He threw Larry backward, sending him sailing toward the concrete wall.   
Larry cringed from the impact but quickly recomposed himself.   
  
"Bing... It's a simple mistake, I-"   
  
"SIMPLE MISTAKE!? TWO GIRLS ARE DEAD BECAUSE OF US!!!" Bing gripped his shaggy hair in consternation.   
  
"We've butchered fusions before... why is it such a big deal now?" Larry began to raise his voice. His left brow was scraped from hitting the concrete wall.   
Bing sharply inhaled, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Not like this. I've never completely torched a fusion like this. When a fusion fails, the subjects have always lived, disfigured, but alive. Now get out. You're fired."   
  
"Pardon?" Larry said as he began to back up.   
  
"I SAID GET  _ OUT!!!!!" _ Bing lifted a swivel chair over his head and lobbed it straight at his assistant. Larry bolted out of the room.   
  
As Larry's footsteps faded out, Bing began to regain his temporarily-lost sanity.   
He needed to dispose of the burned bodies, and get a new assistant.   
  
Bing searched underneath the control panel for a large plastic bag. He and Larry had stored them here in case of a mess like the one he had just created. Bing found a cardboard box of them, the edges were in flames. He grabbed a fire extinguisher from the corner of the room and put them out. After the box was no longer burning, Bing removed a few melted plastic bags from it before finding a usable one.   
  
Slapping on some rubber gloves and a gas mask, Bing opened the airlock door of the fusion machine and stepped inside.   
  
==========================================================================================   
  
This place Bing now called his lab was once an underground prison, used to keep hold of some of the most dangerous criminals in London. It was long abandoned when Bing had first found it, perfect for carrying out his highly immoral work.   
  
Now the cells were filled with different kinds of captors. They weren't murderers, rapists, and thieves, but the lives of the innocent, twisted and disfigured into failed experiments. Skeletons of whatever humanity they had left.   
  
Bing dumped the plastic bag into the dumpster. The monsters howled at him.   
  
Bing exhaled sharply before loudly rapping the bars of the cell next to him. The monster inside screeched and cowered back into the shadows.   
  
"Bark all you want, you dogs, you're not getting out!!" Bing angrily yelled across the prison halls. Some of the monsters quieted themselves.   
  
The monster in the cage next to Bing decided to challenge him once again. The three-headed gremlin launched itself at Bing, slamming into the bars with a howl. Bing ignored it. The more attention you paid to these inhuman creatures, the more they craved, and the more annoying they became.   
  
The monster let out a trill before circling the cage in annoyance. It sat in the middle of the cell like a child in time out.   
  
Not surprising. This monster had once been three children. Bing had snatched them up at an amusement park. Definitely one of his more regrettable fusions.   
  
Bing sighed as he removed his rubber gloves, both of which smelled strongly of rotting flesh. He dropped them in the dumpster along with the bagged dead monster. He had grown used to the awful smell, but never the memories of what the fusion was before he butchered them. The two women he had fused mere minutes ago were once a young couple. He couldn't get the images of them holding each other tightly when the fusion machine was activated. The poor girls. At least they died in each other's embrace.

  
  



	2. Six Months Later

The TV blared in the background as Edd flopped backwards into the red sofa, letting the old cushions support his still-tired body. He rubbed his eyes, and stretched his arms.

 

"Edd, why's there a news van parked outside the neighbors'?" Matt's unexpected presence startled Edd for a moment.    
  
"Wh..?"   
  
Edd turned on his side on the couch, facing his friend. Matt was looking out the window. There was, indeed, a news van outside Eduardo's house.

  
"...Rivera and his roommates have yet to be found. There appear to be no witnesses to a possible kidnapping or murder..."   
  
"I... don't know?" Edd said groggily, before quickly turning his attention to the live news report on TV. Eduardo's grandmother was being interviewed.   
  
"When I got up to the house and rang the doorbell, there was no answer. I rang it another three times before I unlocked it with my hairpin, and when I opened the door, no one was around! All the kitchen chairs were knocked over, and the table was on its side. There wasn't any blood, fortunately..."   
  
Edd felt a cold sweat beginning to come to his forehead. He didn't like Eduardo, but this was suspicious. Sure, Eduardo, Mark, and Jon always spent nights out, but they were always back by 7 PM. There was the one time they came home at 6 am, however, that was an accident. This time, it was almost 10 am, with no sign of the trio. And the furniture being overturned? That was a horror story in itself. Mark was a neat freak. He wouldn't let anyone leave the house unless everything was cleaned up.   
  
Tom strolled into the living room.   
  
"You look kind of tense, Edd." He said tiredly. Edd exhaled, "Well, there's a news van outside the neighbors', and apparently Eduardo, Mark, and Jon all went missing last night."   
  
"Good riddance," Tom said as he turned on his heel toward the kitchen.    
  
Edd fumed. "TOM! This is serious! Look, I may not like them either, but..."    
  
Tom was already in the kitchen, the fridge open. "Lame," he grumbled. Edd looked over at Matt, throwing his arms up in frustration. Matt only shook his head.   
  
"What's this about the neighbors going missing...?"   
  
Edd turned toward the familiar sound of Tord's voice.   
  
Tord half-walked, half-carried himself out of the hallway, rubbing his right eye. His fluffy, caramel-colored hair was ravaged with bed-head.   
  
"Hey, Tord!" Matt said oddly cheerfully. Tord only waved in response.   
  
"Good morning, shithead," Tom said from the kitchen. Edd snorted.    
  
"So, news van..?" Tord inquired. Edd motioned for him to sit down on the couch. Tord only leaned over the back of the sofa.   
  
"Eduardo, Mark, and Jon disappeared last night. According to Ed’s grandma, all the furniture and shit's been overturned." Edd replied.   
  
"That's actually really creepy... and all of this happened while we were out eating Korean Barbeque until 2 AM last night..?" Tord said as he looked toward the TV.   
  
"Yup." Edd brought his attention to the news once again.   
  
On-screen, a cameraman filmed the inside of the neighbors’ house. The place really was a wreck. In addition to the kitchen chairs being flipped over, their couch had been pushed backward, and several picture frames had been knocked off the walls. There was a dent in the wall beside the couch. A vase that once held plastic lilacs had been shattered on the floor.   
  
Edd looked at Tord timidly. "Who do you think could have done this...?"   
  
A line of worry appeared between Tord's eyebrows. "Maybe the same people who took Kim and Katya."


	3. Slenderman

**Seven Months Later.**  
  
  
"I'm telling you, this place is scary as shit!! It's real, I swear!" Yanov said desperately.  
  
"You tell me bullshit stories all the fuckin' time, Yanov. Not falling for this one." Paul said, smoking a cigarette. He leaned back in a beat-up brown recliner.  
  
"Seriously, the sewage tunnel I'm talking about, it leads to this creepy-ass laboratory. The door was wide open..." Yanov grumbled in frustration. He put his hands out in front of him as if he were trying to grasp something invisible.  
  
"Well," said Paul, "If the door was wide open, why didn't you go in? And why the hell were you down there in the first place?"  
  
Yanov inhaled sharply. "I didn't have anything, no flashlight, no weapon," He said indignantly. Paul gave him a look.  
  
"Who says you'd need a flashlight and weapon to explore it? If this place even exists," Paul said indifferently. He chewed on the end of his cigarette.  
  
"There's something in there. A monster, something, I don't know. Whatever it is, I heard it, and I almost shit myself."   
  
Paul looked back at Yanov, this time he scanned his expression. He didn't look like he was spewing bullshit like he normally did. The fucker was scared, his hazel eyes wide and a little twitchy.   
  
"A monster?" Paul tried to sound cool-headed.  
  
"I don't know what it was. But it was growling, and it didn't sound like a dog, or a bear, or anything I've ever heard before," Yanov explained.  
  
Paul raised an eyebrow. "You sure it wasn't a lion?" He joked.   
  
Yanov groaned. "No, it wasn't a lion!! Who the hell would put a lion in sewage tunnel?!"  
  
"You would," Paul chuckled. He removed his cigarette and smothered it in the ashtray beside him.  
  
Yanov huffed. "Alright, alright, you have a point there. What I'm really asking you to do is-"  
  
"You want me to check out this creepy laboratory that I don't even think is real, where a sewer lion is on the prowl?" Paul said gruffly, making air quotes at “sewer lion.”  
  
"Oh my God! Can at least _TRY_ to take me seriously!? This thing sounded almost human!!" Yanov shouted.  
  
Paul shrugged. "I'll see what I can do. God, you're a pussy..." He groaned as he got up from the recliner. Human, huh? Sounds like a bunch of kids playing a prank. He thought.  
  
Yanov sighed in relief. "Thank you... wait what did you call me?"  
  
"You heard me."

  
Getting up from his chair, he walked to the kitchen, knocking on the counter, catching the attention of Pat. Leaning against the counter, Paul looked at Pat. Pat glanced at him, and Paul sighed.   
  
"There's no way in hell I'm going down a sewage tunnel. Yanov is probably trying to send us on a wild goose chase," Pat said before Paul could explain.   
  
"He doesn't sound or look like bullshit like he normally does. This isn't some slenderman shit like he pulled last time," Paul explained.    
  
Pat folded his arms. "You sure? Because this sounds exactly like slenderman shit to me. Plus, we can probably just bring this to the authorities,”   
  
"Pat, say there is no creepy door or monster down there, we’d look like idiots to the police. We should go check it out for ourselves before we get the police involved," Paul said coldly. Pat was quiet for a second.   
  
"Okay, about the monster part, you’re sure it wasn't a dog?" Pat said skeptically.   
  
"Yanov said it didn't sound like a dog. He said it sounded human," Paul stated.   
  
"Human...?" Pat inquired.   
  
"Yeah, human. I don't understand how a human growls, exactly, but it's what he said,"    
  
"...Okay, I'll come over, I'll chase down whatever 'monster' is in that sewage tunnel. I'm only doing this because I'm bored, okay?" Pat pinched the bridge of his nose.   
  
Paul didn’t have to turn around to know Yanov was hovering over him. "Thanks. Yanov, I know you’re right behind me, I can feel you breathing down my neck.”   
  
Though Paul couldn’t see him, he could hear Yanov step away from him.

  
Pat chuckled. "I’ll be back,” He got up from the counter. “Give me five minutes.”   
  
=======================================================================================   
  
Jesus Christ, what did I just get myself into? Pat thought. He knelt at one side of his bed, reaching underneath and grabbing the edge of a plastic bin. He slid it out.    
  
Inside the plastic bin was a crossbow, slightly dusty from being underneath his bed for so long. Fortunately, he had never had to use this weapon in self-defense. Tonight, however, Pat acknowledged the possibility that he would.   
  
One arrow was already loaded. Pat figured he wouldn't need any more but quickly changed his mind. He took a sleeve quiver from the bottom of the box and rolled up his left hoodie sleeve. He strapped the quiver to his wrist, sliding in four arrows. Pat decided that was enough, before heading out the door and into his car.   
  
As he pulled away from his driveway, Pat got a sinking feeling in his gut. Something told him tonight wouldn't end well.

 

CH4:

"Where the hell is he?" Paul asked no one in particular. It had been nearly half an hour since the Pat left, and he still hadn't come back.   
  
"Worried about your husband?" Yanov teased. Paul glared at him.   
  
Yanov had known about Paul and Pat's relationship for two years. He constantly teased both of them about it.   
  
"Of course I'm worried about him," Paul snapped. "If you cared about anyone as much as I did, you'd fucking understand."   
  
Yanov put his hands up in a surrender, rolling his eyes at Paul. He folded his arms in indignance.   
  
"Hello? Guys, I'm right here..." Pat said from the other side of the door. Paul quickly smothered the cigarette he was holding and briskly walked to the door. Though he couldn't see it, Yanov was grinning at him.   
  
Paul opened the door, and he couldn't help but smile when he saw Pat waiting for him in the hallway.    
  
"Jesus, what took you so long?" Paul joked.   
  
"Traffic. There was an accident," Pat explained.   
  
"Ah, I was worried-"   
  
"Hah. Gaaaaayyyyyy." Yanov said from the kitchen. Paul ignored him. He absentmindedly put his hands on Pat’s hips.   
  
"Did you bring your crossbow?" Paul asked. Pat's eyes widened for a second.   
  
"Shit, I left it in the car. I'll get it when we head out," Pat replied.   
  
Paul scratched the side of his head. "Got it. Yanov, you coming with us?" He called out, turning toward the kitchen.   
  
"Hell no! Not after what I heard!" Yanov called back.    
  
"You're doing my laundry for a month, asswipe," Paul looked back at Pat.

  
"I'll get a flashlight. I'm not worried about anything being down there," Paul said quietly. He gave Pat a kiss on the cheek before going off to find a flashlight.


	4. Descent

The eerily lit sewage tunnel gave both Pat and Paul chills. Water dripped from cracks in the ceiling, dripping into puddles of foul-smelling liquid. Paul shined his flashlight around the tunnel, illuminating the many graffiti drawings that adorned the cement walls. The spray-painted murals did not look unlike demons and creatures that would pop off the walls and attack. Their presence mocked Paul and Pat.   
  
Pat walked timidly by Paul's side, gripping his crossbow like a lifeline. He was ready to fire at anything that moved. Cold sweat made his face sticky. Pat wished he could turn back, but the yearning curiosity that pulled him forward could not be stopped. He couldn't bring himself to ask Paul if they could turn back.   
  
"I hope this is bullshit," Pat choked out.   
  
"I couldn't agree more. If there really is some kind of monster down here, I don't want to meet it." Paul replied. The determination Pat expected his voice to carry was not there.   
  
Paul stopped dead in his tracks.   
  
"...Yanov wasn't pulling my leg."   
  
Just a few meters ahead of Paul and Pat was a door. A vault door, ajar, and dented at one edge, as if something with great strength had torn it back. The lights behind the door flickered ominously. Pat felt his breath catch in his throat.   
  
Paul swallowed hard. He did not want to go in there. He knew that if he didn't, however, that Yanov wouldn't leave him alone. He sighed. "I'm going in," He said strongly, stiffly making his way forward. Pat followed, his stomach tied in a knot.   
  
Paul pushed aside the door, illuminating the room ahead with his flashlight. Dark pipes spiderwebbed down the walls and floor. One hissed just before the back of the vault door hit the wall. Water dripped from some of the pipes in the ceiling. Paul stood frozen in the doorway for a second. A thousand thought swam inside his head, most telling him that he and Pat needed to turn back. He pushed them aside, begrudgingly taking a step forward into the creepy hallway.    
  
As Pat faced his fear and took a step forward too, his hands shook, making his crossbow rattle slightly. His breathing became shaky. If he wasn't on edge before, he was now. Pat kept his finger on the trigger of his crossbow, he was ready to fire at anything.   
  
A pipe hissed, steam blowing in a violent stream at Paul and Pat. Pat screamed, stumbling. Paul dropped his flashlight, his own scream getting lost somewhere in his throat.    
  
For a moment, the two men were left in shock, their hearts racing. It took Pat a moment to register what happened. He picked himself up off the floor, even shakier than he was initially. He noticed that Paul was tightly gripping the sleeve of his grey and yellow hoodie.   
  
"Sorry," Pat squeaked. Paul just stared, before picking up his flashlight and pressing forward without a word. He didn't let go of Pat's hand.   
  
Down the hallway, there was another door. This one was closed. Paul fumbled with the door handle before realizing it was locked. Before Pat could try to suggest turning back, Paul kicked the door hard enough to break the lock. The door flew open. Behind the door was a relatively small room, filthy and left to ruin. The concrete floors were dusty, cracked, and covered in broken glass. What really caught Paul and Pat's attention, however, was a large, shattered window, and the large control panel in the corner. It was patched with peeling duct tape in some places, and wires hung out of large holes in it. A few of the switches and buttons on top if it were missing. In the opposite corner of the room was an old TV on a cart. A VHS Player was on the floor next to it, wires running from the back of it to the TV. On the same wall as the control panel, there was a doorway, but instead of a door, there was something resembling a large ceiling fan, metal blades arching outward.. A crumpled spire was in the middle of the four blades. This apparatus hung unnaturally from the room on the other side of the doorway. Something told Pat that it was not supposed to hang that way.   
  
Paul bent over, picking up what looked to be a tape from the floor. He dusted it off. The label was blank, and a small corner of the plastic box was broken off. 

 

“What do you think this is?” Paul asked Pat, showing him the tape.

 

Pat awkwardly transferred his crossbow to one hand and turned the tape over a few times in his other hand.

“I think it goes to that,” Pat pointed at what semi-recognizable as the shattered remains of a tripod camera. “Or the VHS player.”

 

Paul thought for a minute. Why would there be a camera here? And more importantly, why was in smashed to smithereens?

 

“Someone was recording,” Pat said quietly, right before he noticed how the film inside the tape was ripped off at the end, and hanging out of the tape. “Somebody must have tried to destroy some kind of evidence, is what I’m thinking. But then they would have destroyed the tape too…” Pat wondered. He really couldn’t piece together everything. Paul took the tape from Pat, looking over at the VHS player, and then back at Pat.

 

“Let’s play the tape,” Paul said before he strode over to the TV and inserted the tape into the VHS player. He turned on the TV, the screen coming to life with static.

 

The video began with a young woman with blue hair setting the camera into place. The camera shifted in and out of focus.

  
"Recording?" A man’s voice inquired. 

 

“Camera rolling,” the young woman responded. The camera focused, the video becoming much clearer. The man was revealed to be fairly tall and had shaggy brown hair. He wore a patched white lab coat that hung over his thin frame as if it were a coat hanger. 

 

The man stood in front of a control panel, a large, slightly clouded window in front of him. Pat couldn’t make out what was behind it. He looked up from the video, eyeing the shattered window and the busted control panel in the corner.   
  
"Now commencing fusion test number sixteen," the man announced, pushing forward three of the switches on the control panel. A loud hum resonated from the machinery. His hand hovered over one of the levers, which was painted bright red. 

 

The young woman spoke again, “Power stable,” she called out from behind the camera.

“Systems ready,” the man responded. He took a pair of dark goggles from his pocket, holding them up to his eyes, as there were no straps to hold them on his head."Running fusion device in five, four, three, two, one," He pulled back the bright red lever, the window in front of him   
  
The window in front of the control panel shattered, the tempered glass flying in different directions. The video became a bright white for a second, before going dark again. A thud let Paul and Pat know that the camera had fallen over.   
  
"Laurel... are you okay!?" The man shouted. The sparking controls were the only light in the now pitch-black room.   
  
"... I'm okay!" the woman shouted back.

  
"Where's number sixteen..?" The man’s voice was shaky. “God, this wasn’t supposed to happen, are you sure the power readings were normal..?”

 

“They were fine when I checked them, I don’t know what went wrong-” Laurel stopped speaking, letting out a gasp. She screamed. Something unrecognizable leaped through the shattered window, directly at the camera, screaming all the while.

 

The tape stopped playing, the last horrifying image of a disfigured, bony hand stuck on the screen.   
  
Paul was left in shocked silence. After a few seconds, he turned around and spoke, not bothering to remove the tape.

“That thing… that was definitely the monster Yanov was talking about,” Paul’s eyes were wide, his voice barely louder than a whisper.   
Pat took a shaky breath, looking around the room. “Oh god, it might still be here, we need to get out of here now.”   
  
Pat nodded before he and Paul quickly made their way out of the lab. As they left, the door drifted ajar, filling a fraction of the room with the gently flickering light from the hallway. As they left, the door slowly inched ajar, a beam of gently flickering light shining into the room. Behind the control panel, something stirred, disturbed by the intruders and by this new light.

 

Paul wanted nothing more to do with this lab. If that monster was still in this place, he didn't want to come face to face with it. He knew Pat's crossbow wouldn't do much against it.

  
Pat's grip on his crossbow had never been tighter. If that monster showed up anytime soon, he'd be ready to kill that motherfucker. However, a part of him didn't seem to agree with that. This part of Pat was scared and shaky, and made his grip on the crossbow weaker than he wished it was.   
  
  
Something fell over behind him.   
  
Pat whipped around, aiming at where the sound came from with his crossbow. He tugged on Paul's sleeve imperatively. Paul turned around, not realizing he had pointed his flashlight at the ground.   
  
"Paul... what the hell is that?"   
  
Paul directed his flashlight upward and was met with the most sickening sight.   
  
In front of Paul and Pat was an amalgamation of human flesh and bones, mangled arms and legs pointing haphazardly outward. The monster’s four heads were all pointed at Paul and Pat, all eight of their dead eyes locked on them.

  
Paul and Pat screamed, sprinting away from the beast. Paul lost his grip on his flashlight. It tumbled to the ground, the monster's huge body seemed to absorb it as it moved forward at alarming speed. The lights began to strobe intensely.   
  
Paul could barely see. He dragged Pat around a corner, not realizing he had gone the wrong way. He hesitated before beginning to move again. The monster swiftly caught up to him, reaching out at him with one of its bony hands. Its bony claws tore through Paul's side. Paul let go of Pat's hand as he lost his footing and tumbled to the floor. He felt his hope for making it out alive diminish as the beast began to move toward him, its whole body taking up Paul’s entire field of vision.    
  
Suddenly, the monster lurched backward, letting out an unholy screech.   
  
"What the..?" Paul said painfully, gripping his bleeding side.   
  
An arrow stuck out of the beast’s back, blood already beginning to trickle from the wound.   
  
Pat, what in hell are you doing...?   
  
Pat kept drawing and firing arrows at the monster, trying to make it stay back. This didn't seem to help much, but at least the monster's ire was halted temporarily. As Pat reached for a fifth arrow, he realized had no more.   
  
Pat lifted up Paul from the ground, swiftly helping him to his feet. They began running again. Pat had dropped his crossbow somewhere in the hallway, but he really didn't care. Breathing hard, Pat realized he was back in the lab again. He and Paul were right next to the control panel, the monster just starting to squeeze its way through the doorway. The ceiling-fan apparatus pointed directly at it from the second doorway. Pat looked down at the control panel. The button used to activate the machine was still intact.   
  
Without thinking, he slammed his fist down on it.   
  
The machine spewed sparks in all directions, a bolt of lightning shot out of the ceiling-fan device. The room was quickly filled with a sudden burst of smoke, making it impossible to see anything. After a few seconds of this chaos, the smoke cleared, and the room was dark again.

  
  



	5. Don't look

The feeling of consciousness almost felt alien to Edd. He stayed there on the floor for a few seconds, trying to remember the last time he felt this way.  
  
Where was he?  
  
Edd slowly gathered himself, lifting his body from the floor. Standing alone felt strange.  
  
Alone.  
  
Where were his friends?  
  
Edd panicked for a moment. Where were Tom, Matt, and Tord? Were they alright? He looked around for a moment, unable to see them in the darkness if they were even there.  
  
No. No no no no no. This is bad. They've got to be here somewhere… What if they’re still stuck together?  
  
Edd looked down, first noticing his blood-smeared hospital gown, and then an awkwardly-sprawled Tom lying on the floor. Edd felt an immense relief once he saw that his friend was breathing. His shaking hands began to still themselves.  
  
Shortly after, Edd spotted Matt and Tord lying on the floor, not far from him. Matt's arms and legs were spread out like a starfish, his chest gently rose and fell. Tord was curled around himself, with the exception of his right arm, which reached out toward the doorway. Edd felt a smile make its way onto his face. His friends were all there. All breathing. They were all alive, and one by one, they began to wake up.  
  
Tom slowly opened his eyes, taking in the darkness around him. He sat up, looking Edd right in the eyes. He looked torn between hundreds of emotions.  
Matt bolted upward, breathing hard. His eyes were wild, and he kept looking everywhere. He was scared and shaking violently. Tord spasmed as he awoke, coughing and heaving. He threw up on the floor in front of him. He faced Edd slowly, eyes wide.  
  
Edd held out his hands for Matt and Tord. Matt didn't move, but Tord took Edd's hand softly. He looked down into Edd's bright green eyes. Something about staring back into Edd's gaze made him feel nostalgic, and warm on the inside.  
  
Something stirred behind the doorway where everyone lay.  
  
A distorted noise reminiscent of a human voice echoed from the lab. Edd, Tom, Matt, and Tord all turned toward the sound.  
  
A monster rose from the ground. A fusion, like Edd and his friends had just been. Edd didn't recognize the two men who were stuck together in front of him, Its rolled-back eyes and mangled flesh filled Edd with fear. Edd stood there, frozen in the doorway. It wasn't until Matt let out a blood-curdling shriek, and Tom sprinted past him that Edd began to regain his grip on reality. Tord grabbed his hand, dragging him out of the hallway. Edd couldn’t stop staring at the monster. It wasn’t chasing him. It didn’t move at all. It stood there in the doorway where he and his friends had just been, its arms reaching out almost desperately. As Tord rounded the corner of the hallway, the monster disappeared from sight.

The lab’s main door was wide open. All four boys scrambled toward it, wanting nothing more to do with this lab that had caused them so much suffering and pain.

 

=====================================================================

**Several Hours later.**

 

Yanov awoke to police sirens. He bolted up in bed, rubbing his eyes as he watched ten police cars fly past his apartment window. 

 _What time was it...?_ He thought as he pressed down on a small button on the side of his digital watch, illuminating the small screen. It was 3:56 AM. Yanov realized he hadn't heard Paul and Pat come home. 

They weren't home and ten fucking police cars just went by his window. Something had happened to Pat and Paul. Yanov's shot out of bed and threw on a pair of pants and a hoodie before running outside in his slippers. 

Yanov didn't stop to watch the red and blue lights of the police cars disappear down the street, within seconds he was in his own car and had it started. He pulled out of the apartment parking lot and drove in the direction of the police cars. He kept following them until they stopped in front of a large sewage tunnel. Police officers were already sealing off the perimeter with caution tape.

Yanov got out of his car, forgetting to close the door as he took in the scene. A policeman approached him. His name badge read "Baucom."

"Sir, this is a crime scene. What are you doing here? State your name and business" Officer Baucom commanded,

Yanov swallowed before speaking. "My name is Yanov Cutaj. My friends are in there. They went to go investigate something in there... I sent them and they never came back."

"Well, we think we found your friends if your friends are four men that have been missing for seven months." Officer Baucom said as he lifted his clipboard and flipped back a page.

Yanov shook his head. "No, nonononono, my friends went in just a few hours ago and... hold on- _what?"_

Officer Baucom sighed. "Missing person reports were filed for four men who disappeared from their home back in February, they reappeared about three hours ago. They were caught by security camera footage-"

"I just want to know where my friends are. Their names are Paul and Patryck, and they went to investigate this tunnel..." Yanov explained, speaking quickly.

"I'm sorry sir, we don't know where your friends are. We haven't explored the tunnel yet." Officer Baucom responded.

Yanov balled his fists. "Take me in there with you! I can identify them if I see them!" He said desperately.

Officer Baucom gave him a look. "Alright, I'll take this up with my squad leader. If he thinks you're valuable, you can come with us."

Yanov sighed in relief. "Thank you. Please, I promise I won't cause any trouble."

The officer rolled his eyes and walked off, presumably to go to his squad leader. Yanov got back in his car, sighing deeply as he flopped down into his seat. He rubbed his temples.

 _Four missing guys... make that six_. He thought. Yanov wiped some cold sweat off his forehead. He remembered what he had told Paul hours earlier.

_"There's something in there. A monster, something, I don't know."_

_Maybe that monster had been real?_ Yanov shook the thought. But then he thought about it again.  _What if those four other guys... what if they were running from the monster? What if the monster got Paul and Pat? What if Paul and Pat were dead?_

Someone knocked on Yanov's window. Yanov turned abruptly, seeing Officer Baucom looking at him through the glass. He made a motion for Yanov to come out. Yanov opened the door of his car and stood up, facing the officer and five others.

"My lieutenant said you could be useful. You can come with us to help us find your friends, just don't touch any evidence or anything." Baucom said as he folded his arms.

"Got it," Yanov nodded his head quickly. "I won't mess up anything."

=======================================================================

A detective handed Yanov a flashlight.

"You'll need this," she told him. 

Yanov turned on the flashlight, not realizing it was pointed directly at his face. He yelped, quickly turning it off. The detective pinched the bridge of her nose before walking off.

"You coming, dumbass?" Another policeman barked at Yanov as he loaded a Glock. Officer Baucom slapped the back of his head.

"Coming," Yanov said quickly, joining the group of five officers.

A man with a name badge reading "Petty" began to brief everyone on what their protocols were inside the tunnel. He turned to Yanov. "Your only job is to tell us if anyone we see in there is actually your friends," He said, pointing a finger at Yanov like a pistol. Yanov nodded.  _And don't fuck up anything._  He thought to himself.

Petty gave the order for everyone to enter the tunnel, motioning for Yanov to come along. Yanov awkwardly followed, holding his flashlight the way a child would hang on to their teddy bear.

The sewage tunnel, as expected, was dark and smelled awful. The hair on the back of Yanov's neck stood up and his palms were sweaty. The police squad didn't seem to take notice of Yanov's crippling fear, to them, exploring a sewage tunnel was nothing new. They'd probably done it dozens of times before. Yanov didn't understand how stagnant water and dark spaces like this one could seem regular.

"Hey, that's the door!" Yanov exclaimed, pointing ahead of him. The door was wide open, the area behind it dark and foreboding. The police squad's flashlights did little to illuminate the expanse beyond the entryway. Officer Baucom raised an eyebrow. 

"You've been down here before?" He asked. 

Yanov snorted. "Of course I have. I wouldn't send my friends in if I didn't know what was down here..." Yanov lied. Truthfully, he had no idea what was behind that door.

Petty stepped ahead of Yanov, shining his flashlight into the hallway. He scanned the area before turning around. "All clear," he announced. "Stay behind me, especially you, kid."

Yanov swallowed. He steeled himself before moving forward, surrounded by officers. He felt as if the air were getting colder around him.

_If Paul and Patryck had any sense left, they would have escaped already. Why hadn't they? What was keeping them inside?_

A rattling sound resonated at Yanov's left. He and several officers snapped toward the strange noise. The sound resonated again, as if in response. Yanov directed his flashlight down the hallway, where the noise had originated. On the floor was a crossbow and several blood smears. It was Pat's crossbow, unmistakeably, and presumably Pat's blood. Yanov felt his hope sink. "Jesus..." an officer whispered behind Yanov. Yanov pushed away from the thought of Pat or Paul being dead. Chances are, the rattle he had heard just moments ago had probably been one of them. It was a stretch, but Yanov-at this point-needed something to believe in.

"We have to keep moving," Yanov said imperatively. "Even if they're dead, we have to find them."

Petty looked and Yanov grimly before nodding. He motioned for the rest of the squad to follow. Everyone moved at a cautious pace toward the end of the hall, where a heavy steel door, slightly ajar, separated the police squad from whatever made the rattling sound. Bravely, Yanov pushed it aside.

Instead of a ferocious beast or something to send everyone running for the hills, there was just another dark room.

With cells. Prison cells. Yanov looked closer and there were claw marks on the walls behind the bars.  _What the fuck?_ Yanov mouthed.

"What the fuck were they keeping here?" Asked the detective who had given Yanov a flashlight. No one answered. 

The police squadron continued to move slowly through the prison, shining their lights on anything remotely suspicious. One of them gagged suddenly and fell back into the group.

"What is it?" Officer Petty barked at the man who had fallen back. The officer covered his mouth and shook his head, pointing at one of the cells they had passed by. Petty snatched his flashlight and directed it into the cell. Yanov saw the color drain from his face.

On the floor of the cell was a body, Yanov wasn't sure it was human. It had three heads and looked like it had once walked on its four hands. It was split into several pieces, but not the way a butcher carved meat into even slices but ripped apart. Ripped apart as if it had been done to itself from the inside out. Yanov stepped away and lost his lunch on someone's boots. The now filthy officer made a noise of disgust and frustration.

"The hell is that?" Baucom pinched his nose shut.

"This should give us a pretty good idea of whatever else we're going to find in this godforsaken place," The detective replied, disgust in her voice.

Yanov, who had finished dryly retching, looked back up at the detective and wiped his mouth. "If we do, don't make me look at it or I might just turn my stomach inside out..." he groaned.

A scrabbling sound came from about two cells down from where the police were standing. Everyone turned slowly toward the noise. Yanov caught a glimpse of movement from within the cell. He felt his hope resurface.

"Paul...? Pat...?" Yanov called out, expecting a response. None came. He began to creep toward the cell, his footsteps barely audible. More scrabbling sounds followed. A light on the ceiling flickered, illuminating the room for a split second. Yanov didn't catch anything. He didn't think to direct his flashlight up at the cell as he kept moving.

"Guys, if this is a joke, it isn't fucking funny..."

The lights flickered on and off again. The police hesitated. One by one, everyone's flashlights began to go out. Yanov shook his flashlight, hoping for it to turn back on. "Guys?" Yanov called into the pitch black room.

A loud screech came from the cell, the lights beginning to strobe intensely. Yanov jumped backward into Officer Petty. A monster was latched onto the cell door, screaming and lashing out at the officers. One officer pointed a gun at the monster and prepared to kill it. He shot and missed.

Yanov took a second to analyze the monster. It was wearing half a jean jacket... and half a yellow hoodie. It had two heads, one with long, dark hair, and wild blue eyes. The other had short curly hair and unmistakable large eyebrows.

It was Paul and Pat. His best friends had become a monster. A monster, sounding just like the one he had heard the day before.

Yanov swallowed hard, suppressing the urge to pass out right there.

"Don't shoot."


	6. Puzzle Pieces

"That thing...? Those are your friends?" Officer Petty asked incredulously. Yanov stared at the savage beast that was now his friends. Paul glared at Yanov and screeched angrily at him.

"Yeah... that's them," Yanov said distantly.

"Well, you have some freaky-ass friends," Baucom said shakily. He seemed close to vomiting.

"They're not supposed to look like that... obviously," Yanov replied. "I don't know what happened to them..." He couldn't stop gawking at Paul and Pat. It was like an accident, he couldn't look away. Pat drooled and bit the bars of the cell door. It seemed like every last bit of Paul and Pat's sanity had been stripped away, leaving nothing but a humiliating rabid creature. However, deep down, in the desperate, painful look in their eyes, Yanov still sensed echoes of humanity. 

"Pat, Paul..." Yanov whispered. The amalgamation of his friends didn't respond to their names. Pat kept gnawing at the cell door, Paul just looked away, unfocused.

"Pat. Paul." Yanov said again, stronger this time. Baucom and the police squad held their breath.

Pat stopped chewing the cell door, he let go of the bars and tilted his head back slightly. Paul glanced at Yanov and loosened his grip on the bars. He trilled quietly.

"Pat. Paul!" Yanov said again, louder and more clearly. His expression twisted into one of anger. He heard Baucom step back.

Pat let out a strange noise, something between a gurgle and a word. He pointlessly baffed his hand against the cell door, making it rattle. Paul locked eyes with Yanov. He growled and shifted, swaying his and Pat's body slightly. Pat responded with a distressed squawk of pain. 

"It's me. Yanov," Yanov said loudly and as clearly as he could. "Your friend."

Paul screeched and slammed his face into the bars. The police squad jumped back, a few drawing their guns. Paul tried to reach through the bars with his mangled, bony hand. Pat, being dragged along with this motion, screamed in pain, trying to pull away from Paul. He stopped moving and squawked at Paul as if he were begging him to stop moving. Paul, who was fixed on Yanov, his face pressed up against the door, ignored Pat's cries. He growled in rage.

Unafraid, Yanov stood his ground, Paul's claws inches away from his face. 

Petty grabbed his radio from his belt. "Get us some tranqs, you won't believe what we just found." 

Yanov looked back at Petty and nodded. He took a few steps back from the cell.

"Just don't hurt them," he said quietly.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: The reason why Fused Paul and Pat were locked in a cell at the beginning of the chapter is that while they were wandering around after Edd, Matt, Tom, and Tord left the lab, they went and locked themselves in a cell by accident, and couldn't figure out how to escape.
> 
> I'm sorry, I couldn't figure out how to write this in without it sounding weird and choppy.


	7. Control

“Look at this one,” Pat spread out on the bed, taking a faded Polaroid from a box, and holding it up. Paul took it from his hand, staring at it intently before laughing. Pat rolled onto his stomach, muffling his laughter with the comforter.

”How did you get this?!” Paul thrust the picture into Pat’s face. It was of Paul getting pushed into a swimming pool.

“You were piss ass drunk at that college party Yanov dragged us off to. That one chick who kept hitting on me shoved you into the pool!” Pat explained, a stupid grin on his face. “I was walking around with the Polaroid camera that Yuu gave me, you kept telling me to put it away,”

Paul sat up, sighing. “I remember now... you jumped in and got me, since I couldn’t swim. My drunk ass thought you were a mermaid,” 

Pat snorted, burying his face into the blanket. “We went home soaked, Yuu was pissed when we asked him to take us home.”

”That’s right! He was even more pissed when I threw up in the back seat...” Paul chuckled while staring at the ceiling. “We had to pull over and clean it up.”

”Yeah, gross,” Pat cringed at the memory. He absentmindedly changed the subject. “Not as gross as Yanov’s coffee, though.”

“True. That man does  _not_ know how to make coffee,” Paul agreed.

”Does Yanov know his coffee is that bad? I mean, he doesn’t drink it, he makes us drink it and we tell him it sucks, but he always tells us we’re lying.” Pat grabbed a pillow and hugged it to his chest, staring up at Paul from the bedspread.

”Maybe he likes it, but we don’t ever see him drink it...” Paul pondered.

”Who cares... it’s Yanov and his shit coffee. If he likes his coffee as dark and bitter as my soul, so be it.” 

“You? Dark and bitter? You’re a ray of sunshine, Pat.” Paul lowered himself on the bed, so he was at eye level with Pat.

”I don’t think you’ve seen me at my worst, yet,” Pat said, giving Paul an oddly dull gaze with his light blue eyes. “You’ve seen me at some terrible times, but you certainly have not seen my worst, _misiu.”_

 _“_ Still, you’re generally not dark, bitter, or angsty. You’re a voice of reason, and the least reckless of all our friends, but that doesn’t make you bitter,” Paul gently touched the right side of Pat’s face, running his fingers along his jawline. Pat bit his lip.

“I love you, you dumb fuck.” Pat said, leaning into Paul’s hand.

”I love you too.”

The air in the room began to grow cold, the warm light from the window suddenly growing dark. Pat jumped. Paul had disappeared. The smell of cigarettes wafted away, the stench of disinfectant overpowering the familiar aroma. Pat swore he heard an EKG. The murmur of doctors checking his vitals.

Pat snapped awake, breathing raggedly, the taste of blood and medication stinging his throat. It was so bright, confusing, and intense, Pat wanted to go back to sleep, to return to his dream. 

_Where was he?_

He opened one eye, meeting burning lights and more discomfort. His whole face hurt, the searing pain spreading down his body and constricting him. His right arm was locked to his chest, Pat longed to reach out and grab something, anything. He flung his left arm out, smacking something heavy out of the way. The light that seared through his eyelids mellowed. Pat relaxed for a second, before the light was rudely shoved back in front of him, the fiery discomfort returning. Something sharp was jammed into his left arm, he tried to pull it out, but his right arm stayed pressed tight to his chest.

Within minutes, the pain receded. He felt himself beginning to slip back into his dream. 

_Please. Let me dream again. Let me move and talk and leave this awful pain._

Warmth again. The smell of cigarettes. The softness of the bedding and blankets. It came back in pieces. It left again in pieces.

A soft nothingness wrapped itself around Pat’s mind. It wasn’t the dream, but it wasn’t the hospital. _At_ _least it wasn’t the hospital._

Pat let his body rest, quieted his mind. His breathing slowed as the air grew thick.

_Enjoy the nothing. No use fighting now._


End file.
